Oh Say Can You See

I’d like to take Donald Trump to Palestine,
set him free in the streets of Ramallah or Nablus
amidst all the winners who never gave up in 68 years.
They’d like to make their country great again too,
if only their hands weren’t tied by the weapons
our country buys. Let’s talk about who belongs where,
how a Jewish immigrant to Israel is treated better than someone
who tended a tree for a hundred years. Who lies?
Let’s talk about lies. Give it a shout, Don! They built a wall
so ugly, kids must dream of flying over,
or burrowing under, and it didn’t solve anything.
I’d wrap a keffiyeh around his orange head,
tuck some warm falafels into his pockets,
let him wander alleyways and streets, rubble and hope
mixing together, nothing oversized, no tall towers,
just beautiful tender life, mint flourishing in a tin can,
schoolgirl in a fresh dress with a ruffle, mom and dad
staring from the windows—Can you see us?
Can you see any of us at all?
Naomi Shihab Nye is a chancellor emeritus for the Academy of American Poets. Her most recent books are Famous (Wings Press) and The Turtle of Oman (Greenwillow).